


Blood Lust

by Shadowassasin (Darkshardthedestroyer)



Series: My Dad's An Emotionally Constipated Bat... But At Least He Tries [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd-centric, Mental Health Issues, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Protective Bruce Wayne, Self-Harm, Triggers, Worried Batfamily (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23763268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkshardthedestroyer/pseuds/Shadowassasin
Summary: Shut up, Boy! He'll send you to Arkham forSure!The voices whispered in his mind."Please don't send me to Arkham." Jason whispered quietly, eyes burning, chest tightening in terror. "I can't go back there. Can't hearhislaughter. Please. Please. Plea-" He kept begging, tears dripping down his face. He knew he was screwed. If not even the Batman could help him, then Arkham was really his last stop. He'd be locked up there, force fed pills until he couldn't see straight, forced to listen to the clown's never ending cackles in a half sedated state that made the nightmares worse."Jason,Jasonbreathe!"Bruce growled, clamping down even more tightly on his wrists to ground him. "I'm not sending you to Arkham, but we do have to get this pit madness out of your system."Jason Todd suffers from occasional episodes of pit insanity... But the only ones ever aware of this had been Roy and Kori. The batfamily knew Jason had issues, but during a family reunion, when all the birds and bats are under one roof, they realize just how deep the problems run.POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS for self minor self harm, and schizophrenic-like symptoms.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: My Dad's An Emotionally Constipated Bat... But At Least He Tries [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717066
Comments: 18
Kudos: 615





	Blood Lust

**Author's Note:**

> POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS for self minor self harm, and schizophrenic-like symptoms.

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS for self minor self harm, and schizophrenic-like symptoms.

* * *

Jason could feel the bugs crawling across his skin, the burn of the Lazarus pit, the scalding waters meant to restore and rejuvenate. He could feel anger, burning in his chest, squeezing his heart. He wanted blood, he wanted those who hurt him to face the same kind of eternal agony that burned through his blood and singed his eyes an unnatural green color. He wanted them to pay by the same bloody stick that cracked bones and bruised skin.

He wanted Bruce to pay. His head was on fire, consuming rage tearing into his soul. _What soul?_ The rage asked him. _You're a killer, a murderer. Live up to it!_

"NO!!!!" He roared, bolting up in bed, sweat drenching his face, eyes glowing a bitter toxic green. In the mirror, he could see his own furious gaze, and the non muttled parts of his mind screamed bloody murder, in terror. Lunging out of bed, Jason paced, back and forth, arms clamped to his sides, breathing coming out in harsh short bursts, the glow in his eyes refusing to abate until the pit had been satiated. He wanted to kill. He wanted to smash the Joker's face in with a crowbar, just like the creep had done to him.

No, he wanted Bruce to do it. Yes, maybe he could force the old bat to do it by holding one of his precious sons hostage. His head jerked as the reasonable side of him warred for control.

_No! They're your brothers!_

The pit rage told him they weren't. Bruce had failed him, failed him in Ethiopia, failed to end the Joker, thrown a batarang at his neck when all he wanted was a little sympathy. The bat didn't care, didn't want to avenge him. The Joker was more important, too important to kill over one measly street rat. Jason growled, gripping his head as the world spun. A mighty slam sent the black haired vigilante jumping back, a feral look on his face. Dick, the golden Boy. The boy who never failed the Bat, not like Jason did. Maybe if he were dead, the Bat would finally see worth in Jason.

No.

**"GET** **OUT**!" His reasonable side took over just enough for a side snap kick to send his eldest brother back out the door. Jerking hands slammed the it shut behind him. Jason's entire body shook with rage, thirsty for vengeance, for blood. He gripped his head, trying to find semblance of control before his insanity drove him to take out the entire Batfamily. Christmas reunion at the manor? Not happening again.

_No. No! This is perfect!_ His rage demon bellowed at the back of his head. _You can finally do what you've wanted to do all these_ _Years! He replaced you! Beat you down for wanted vengeance! Is I'm sorry really going to cut it?_

Jason shook his head, grunting as he fought back the murderous thoughts. Images, put there by the darkest crevices of his mind, of his brothers dead, Bruce watching as he took every one of them down. 

"Jason, let me in." Dick called, softly rapping on the door.

_Yes, let him in. Let me **finish** him. I'll tear his heart out for Bruce to see._

Jason fought back bile.

_They don't want you! They never have._ The creature growled. _They're just pretending! Bruce likes stabbing you in the back. Dick will throw you back in Arkham. Bruce will beat you again. They're waiting, waiting till it hurts you the most._

And some part of Jason broke at that. The boy stood up, locked the door and retreated to his bed, shoving his back into the corner as his monster continued growling out obscene and mind numbing horrors. Jason wanted Blood. And it scared him. It terrified him. What if Alfred came through that door?

_He'd hurt you too. He helps the bat._

Jason screamed into his clamped jaw, wanting nothing more than for the beast to be quiet. He didn't want to hurt them, not after he'd fought so hard to amend his flawed relations with them. But the beast roared on. It felt like claws were stabbing the back of his face, stabbing into his eyes, driving fiery coals into his heart. It wanted control, and once upon a time, he'd have given it. The door opened, and Jason panicked.

"Get out!" He bellowed, throwing the nearest thing he could find, a lamp. He'd locked the door hadn't he? Oh right, Alfred's master keys. The lamp shattered into a million pieces, colorful shards of ceramic tinkling to the floor. He knew it was priceless, but Bruce shouldn't have been stupid enough to put an antique vase into a volatile monster's room. Speak of the devil that wasn't currently giving him a monstrous headache. Bruce stayed in the door way, curious eyes peering in from behind. He looked owlish, having finally gotten some sleep.

"Jason."

" **I SAID GET** **OUT**!" Even to his own ears, he could hear the Lazarus pit roaring through him, hundreds of venomous voices channeled through one mouth, eyes glowing more vividly than the pits' green swirls. He saw Tim go wide eyed backing away from Bruce.

Bruce, pointedly ignoring him, stepped in and closed the door behind him. Jason felt his muscles quiver in anticipation.

_Kill him._

"No." It came out as a whimper, backed by a jaw clenched scream as he felt his fingers claw into the blanket. His feet shoved uselessly against the sheets, shoving him farther into the corner. "Make it stop. Make. It. **STOP!"**

Bruce stayed his distance. He'd never seen one of these freak outs. Kori and Roy, however, had; and at Jason's request, they'd tied him in a chair until it abated. But the only danger he'd posed then was to himself. No one associated with his death was under the same roof. He hadn't realized he'd been clawing long bleeding marks into the already marred skin on his wrists. His nails weren't that sharp -for this precise reason-, but they'd done the job regardless. Taken aback by the surprise at what he'd done to himself, he lost what minuscule control he had over his muscles. He felt himself lunge in a dissociated state. 

He wanted to beg Bruce to watch out, but his mouth wasn't under control. Anger surged through his chest, and he screamed wildly. Bruce, who may not have had a clue what was going, reacted as Jason hoped he would. He felt himself being caught and slammed to the floor, wind knocked out of him. Bruce was sitting on his back, wrenching his arms tightly behind his back. Jason squirmed, but couldn't get free.

"Bruce." He whispered hoarsely, jaw too tight to move. "Help me... please." He could feel Bruce tense up, fingers keeping a tight grip on Jason's wrists. "Can't... control... them."

_Shut up, Boy! He'll send you to Arkham for_ _Sure!_ The voices whispered I his mind.

"Damian said it's pit madness." Bruce stated quietly, firmly. "Says Ra's does this from time to time."

"Please don't send me to Arkham." Jason whispered quietly, eyes burning, chest tightening in terror. "I can't go back there. Can't hear _his_ laughter. Please. Please. Plea-" He kept begging, tears dripping down his face. He knew he was screwed. If not even the Batman could help him, then Arkham was really his last stop. He'd be locked up there, force fed pills until he couldn't see straight, forced to listen to the clown's never ending cackles in a half sedated state that made the nightmares worse.

"Jason, **_Jason_ breathe!"** Bruce growled, clamping down even more tightly on his wrists to ground him. "I'm not sending you to Arkham, but we do have to get this pit madness out of your system."

_Lies! He's waiting for you to believe him so he can ship you off easy!_

Jason grit his teeth and pressed his nose to the floor until it burned. It was giving him some source of grounding, albeit weak. He hadn't realized he'd been hyperventilating, hadn't realized tears were dripping unhindered down his cheek.

He heard a click, metal tightening around his wrists. It didn't take much to figure out what they were. His eyes widened in horror.

_He's putting the cuffs on you! Foolish boy! Should have listened to us! Now he's gonna ship you off to Arkham for sure! Or maybe lock you in the cells in the cave! You're the unwanted one after all._

Jason flailed, struggling as Bruce released his wrists and shoved his shoulders to the floor. "Listen to me, Jason... _son._ I'm going to let you go-"

_LIAR!_

"And I want you to focus on staying under control. Okay?"

"Why...." He ground out. "why are you doing this to me?" He struggled against the restraints, not able to do much with the bat pushing his chest into the ground.

"It's just a precaution." Bruce assured. "I'm getting you to the cave."

" _ **So you can lock us** **up**?_" Jason growled, the voices of the tortured tearing through his throat. Bruce flinched at the pulsing glow in his eyes whenever he got angrier. " ** _Throw us away and forget about us... again?"_**

"No." Bruce whispered, laying across Jason's shoulders with one arm and putting a hand on the back of his son's head soothingly. It helped. Jason minutely relaxed, somehow scrounging up enough willpower to regain control. "I swear you're not going back there. Just trust me. I have a plan... actually you're brother had a plan."

_He's not your brother. And we'll kill him before the day is out!_

Jason cried out as pain tore into his skull, and he kicked his feet to expel the pain. Bruce got up, completely releasing his son.

_Let us out! Let us Go!_

He twitched, muscles contracting painfully, knees jerking, shoulders clenched to keep himself from even trying to get up. He watched out of his peripheral vision, Bruce going to the bed and balling the comforter up. He felt Bruce drape it over his shoulders and then haul him up, first to his knees and then to his feet. Jason didn't even plan on trying to head butt the man. Bruce casually dodged it and pulled the comforter tight, wrapping an arm around Jason's shoulder, both comforting and restraining at the same time.

Bruce kicked open the door to Jason's room, marched him right past Dick and the others, who'd been crowding. Damian pushed Tim back, allowing Bruce to practically shove Jason down the hall.

"Bruce what's-"

"Go to your rooms!" The bat called.

" ** _That's right, bratts. Didn't your mothers ever tell you that meddling was rude?"_**

He saw Damian's face remain passive, Tim, once more going wide eyed, and Dick more or less looking like he'd been slapped with one of penguins especially rancid fish. Alfred stood back, but said nothing, looking at Jason with a face of genuine concern. To add bite to his words, the voices had used his regular vocal cords, not the ghastly ones. Having fragments of the minds of everyone resurrected by the pit was by far a torturous fate, especially since those fragments were primarily the dark parts of those formerly brought back by Al Ghul's green hellish pits. 

Bruce, tightened his grip and pushed Jason towards the grandfather clock. Soon they were stuffed into the elevator, Bruce remaining surprisingly silent.

" _ **We'll kill them. Then you can feel the pain we felt. All of us."**_

The elevator doors opened, and Bruce pushed him out, leading him towards the cell. Jason clawed through the black pits of his mind, shuddering. "No no no no no. I'm sorry."

But before they neared the makeshift cellblocks, Jason felt the blanket get tugged off and tossed to the side, cuffs coming undone next. The monsters in his mind roared in confusion, but he merely gaped at Bruce. That's when he realized he was standing on the soft plastic padding of the sparring mats.

Bruce stepped away, putting a good five feet between them. "Jason, whatever's in your system needs to come out. If you try to repress it, things get worse. Especially in this situation. You aren't suffering from schizophrenia, but rather from trying to share your mind space with those of people formerly brought back in the pits. I couldn't get much out of Damian, but I'm assuming that you've kept yourself under lock down when this happened previously?"

Jason minutely nodded.

"Damian says it passes much more quickly if you have a chance to fight it out... In some cases, it doesn't come back"

"But..."

"Attack me, Jason. Don't hold back. It's me you're angry at isn't it?"

"No... No.." Jason's eyes burned green. " _ **Yes**_!"

* * *

For the first hour, very little was said. Jason attacked, with every intent to kill, much like he had when he first returned to Gotham. It was the same primal insanity, the unquenchable desire to see blood, to kill those who had wronged him. It drove him to sever men's heads from their shoulders, to shoot a good number of the Bat's sons, to say whatever he could to tear the bat's heart apart from the inside.

Things like-

_**"You failed me!"** _

_**"You're not my father!"** _

_**"I'll kill everyone you love!"** _

_**"I trusted you! And you threw me into Arkham! You stabbed me in the back!"** _

Occasionally, it would hit the mark; but Bruce would have a retort for each jab.

"Yes I did."

"Yes I am."

"No you won't."

There was no response for the last one. The bat's lips set tightly as he dodged a kick to his wind pipe. As they set into the second hour, Jason taunted and sneered, cursed and spewed unrepeatable insults, tried to rip him apart physically, successfully tearing his heart out verbally. Bit by bit, the attacks grew more infrequent. Jason was getting tired, but the spew of insults only got louder. Finally, Bruce side stepped a left jab, hooking his arm around the front of Jason's neck, pinning a foot behind his right leg and dragging him down. The boy squirmed and struggled to get free, eyes now a more subtle green than a smack you in your face toxic glow.

Reaching for the canteen, Bruce downed a gulp of water and held it up for Jason. His eyes flared again, batting the offered gift away. Bruce hummed silently, rolling off and bouncing to his feet.

* * *

It was three hours from the first punch, and Jason barely had any fight left in him. His punches were half hearted at best, and it became clear that he was starting to battle his inner demons. Bruce finally made a gut call. He let Jason get the upperhand, let the boy pin him down and press his hands tightly against his exposed wind pipe. He'd been choked by a few enemies before, but there was something decidedly more terrifying about being strangled by your crazed son.

_Yes! Yes!_ The voices whispered. Jason pressed harder, hearing the pained gasp from Bruce.

"No..."Jason begged. "I don't want this!"

_Yes... you. do!_ The voices roared. He didn't want to do this, not to Bruce. They'd hurt each other, worse than anyone else had ever been able. Just dying had been the first of many morbid blows to one Bruce. The list could go on and on.

Bruce had replaced him.

Bruce didn't kill the Joker.

Bruce beat him to a pulp.

Bruce and Dick threw him in Arkham.

Bruce beat him up _again._

He'd nearly blown up Bruce.

He'd nearly killed his sons.

He spent every waking moment of his return making Bruce's life heck.

Then he made it a habit to murder every other guy in front of the Bat.

Then after their 'make up,' they'd still butt heads time and time again.

They'd screwed each other up. Neither were blameless.

His fingers loosened of their own accord, going lax against Bruce's throat.

"I forgive you." He whispered, voice raw from screaming.

Bruce took a few rattly breaths, clutching at his bruised skin and not saying anything back to his frenzied son. As Jason fought to regain control of his body and limbs and mind, Bruce just breathed. The monsters had said their piece, and perhaps would one day return; but Jason could feel that his mind was once more his own. He flopped off Bruce rolling onto his back, tears of both joy and pain pressing against his eyes.

"Jason." Bruce rasped quietly, sitting up with one hand on his throat, the other on Jason's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Jason whispered. "I'm sorry, I-"

Bruce shook his head, raising a hand to silence the traumatized teen. "Don't apologize. I think we both needed this. What you said tonight-"

"Wasn't true."

"It was though." The sage bat replied, studying his son. The boy had crumpled in on himself, clutching his head, wracked by guilt. "Those were things you've said before, things you bottle up and keep buried deep inside." Jason couldn't feel lower. He'd shown what true monster lay buried beneath sarcasm and biting remarks. He'd shown that he couldn't be trusted under the Bat's roof. As long as he stuck around, he posed a threat to them. He was broken, a broken soldier that didn't deserve the bat's love. Not that he'd ever had it to begin with. He couldn't give the Batman time to kick him out in the cold, so he spoke first.

"I'll leave in the morning." Jason whispered. He'd tried. He'd tried so hard. But he never stopped being a freak, a failure. "You won't have to worry about me hurting anyone again."

"Jason-" That tone. It was disappointment. No no no. Jason wrapped his arms around his waist, stomach churning in his gut, feeling sick. He'd screwed up by promising to leave. The bat couldn't just let someone unstable and volatile go. They'd ship him off to Arkham for sure. Lock him up right next to the Joker.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't send me back to Arkham. I know I'm crazy. I know I'm broken; but I'd rather die than go there again!" The desperation in his voice nearly broke the bat's heart. No, the bat could care less about what happened to a criminal like the red hood. The desperation broke Bruce, the father in him. Jason felt a hand gently rubbing circles on his back.

"Jason. Stop. You're not going _anywhere_ tomorrow..." Bruce's fingers tugged his chin gently to the side. "I said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm not sending you to that place either. Ever. Neither is Dick. That's the one thing we both agreed wouldn't be happening." The bat sighed, tugging Jason into a sideways hug. 'Both of us live with the guilt every day."

"But you shouldn't-"

"Yes, Jason. We should. We've both had our track record of screwing up around you. I've... I've failed you, Son. In so many ways. No amount of 'I'm sorrys are going to make it go away. I'm no fool. But I want to try. I want to try to make it right."

"But I'm broken. I'm the black sheep. Why waste your energy?"

"Because you're my son." Bruce stated firmly, grip tightening. "And let's be honest... we're all a bit broken."

"And we've all screwed each other over... majorly. It's what puts the dysfunctional in our family." Jason admitted.

"Dick threw you in Arkham. You tried to blow me up. Damian pushed Tim off the dinosaur-"

"He did _what?"_

* * *

When they got upstairs, they discovered that pretty much everyone had ignored Bruce's order to go to their rooms. Instead, they flocked together in the living room, all going about their business until the grandfather clock whirred silently and slid out of place. It was a mad shoving dash to the door, where five curious sets of eyes and Alfred stood waiting. The last thing they expected to walk off were two bruised and bloodied vigilantes in torn and mangled clothing.

Jason had red and puffy eyes, looking sullen and defeated.... Yet strangely at peace. Damian had informed them of the mind syndrome. He'd gone into painstaking detail, explaining how everyone resurrected In the pits left a small fragment of their mind -often the darkest parts- which would be joined with the minds of those resurrected in the future. Often they lay dormant, triggered by strong emotional reactions or flashbacks strong enough to disturb their slumber. Then they cried for vengeance, hundreds of voices, each wronged and killed in some way or another begging to be appeased. Pit syndrome. Pit insanity. Dick was quick to realize it helped explain just how deranged the red hood had been when he first arrived in Gotham.

Jason blinked sluggishly, leaning heavily on Bruce. Guilt swelled once more. "Guys... I'm sor-"

Dick's suffocating hug shut him up. "Don't even start. You okay, Jaybird?"

"No... But I'm gonna be. Eventually."

"Well tell me when you are,." Tim stated tiredly. "Then I can look on in disgusted jealousy."

* * *

Jason lay sprawled out in his bed ten minutes later, utterly exhausted. "-ey Bruce.." He slurred. "sorry 'bout yur lamp."

"Don't worry, Jay." Bruce sighed, sitting down in Jason's desk chair to maintain vigil over his second oldest. "I'll just take it out of your allowance for the next few decades."

"gnna take centuries... Only get... Five dollars a week, ya know..."

A fond smile spread across Bruce's face, hidden by the shadows. "Get some rest, Jay." He muttered, pulling the covers up to Jason's chin. Tomorrow, the Batfamily's toughest bird would deny being tucked in by Gotham's resident spooky... But for tonight, he'd allow it.

Bruce didn't know if his son would have any future attacks... But he would now be ready for them. No matter what. Jason wouldn't be alone,

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not how to deal with schizophrenia folks. If you need help (I really hope all of you are great and healthy), please seek proper treatment from qualified doctors.  
> That being said, I hope you enjoyed the read!


End file.
